"Thus the heavens and the earth and all their array were completed.
Since on the seventh day God was finished with the work he had been
doing, he rested on the seventh day from all the work he had undertaken.
So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested
from all the work he had done in creation." - Genesis, Chapter 2, Verses 1-3
CORNHOLE . . . CORNHOLE . . .
THROWING BAGS IN A HOLE
In the Beginning
I don't imagine it too far-fetched for our good Lord to have rested on
the seventh day enjoying a cold one and a game of Cornhole. Had Genesis gone into a bit more detail, the chapter of Cornhole's history may
have been an easier sell. However, as it stands, the origin of the game
of Cornhole is an enigma wrapped in a mystery. Possibly one best
suited for four teenage sleuths and their dog to unravel, until now.
54 TAILGATER MONTHLY November I December 2010 TailgaterMonthly.com The Genius Farmer While there is no definite history on the precise moment in time when a genius farmer pitched the first bag, there are subtle clues that do narrow time and place. These clues are presented in the The Corntry of Origin Cornhole achieves its name, in large part, to the material used to stuff a traditional bag, corn kernels. This material choice makes Cornhole unique. Footballs and basketballs are filled with air, and golf balls and baseballs with rubber. The material choices each game chooses aligns with the ath- letic feat trying to be accomplished. It just so happens that crushed corn kernels, create the right weight, feel and flight to throw at a wooden board. The game of Cornhole and corn go together like rama lama lama ka dinga da dinga dong. This relationship is crucial when assigning origin for the game of Cornhole.
Many theories, ranging from roots in Germany, to Native American
settlements, to somewhere in the Midwest such as Ohio or Kentucky,
filter through the Cornhole community ranks. Each offer just enough
truth for a solid defense, but each contains a touch of the ridiculous
that can be easily debunked. The one farce I found most fantastic
was about a Bavarian cabinet maker by the name of Matthias
Kuepermann, who, in 1325, grew inspiration for the game by
watching boys throw stones in a hole. Unfortunately, as the story
goes, for good ol' Herr Kuepermann, the Corn Laws of Britain, enacted in the 15th century, stifled corn trade and in turn the game. What
really sends the story over the edge is the claim that the boardmaking for
Cornhole was so rapid, that it led to an unnatural deforestation of Bavaria.
Even though the authors wrote the tall tale in jest, elements of the story
still filter through the web, as Cornhole sites copy tidbits of the story in explaining the history of the game.
Aside from Kuepermann, two other gentlemen find their way into Cornhole folklore. One is an Irish lad by the name of Jebediah McGillicuddy,
not to be confused with Jebediah Springfield, founder of the Simpson's
Springfield. The other legend went by William Charles Hosatch, a name
better suited for the game of golf. The theories are nothing more than
story telling. Though, somewhere at sometime, the stars aligned for one
man, and he gave unto us the game of Cornhole. I call him a genius.
very nature that Cornhole manifests itself; with its traditions, materials and it's rules or standards. These qualities define Cornhole as a
unique game, worthy of a unique history, rather than pawning off the origin on some primitive people that threw something into something else.
The game of Cornhole deserves a genius farmer, in which, to root its traditions.
